Besides The Point
by PurpleYin
Summary: Written for Mayacakaia's prompt "Molly's has a habit of leaving things (yr choice) around the flat like Sherlock leaves body parts around. (established Sherlolly)".


**A/N:** Written for Mayacakaia's prompt "Molly's has a habit of leaving things (yr choice) around the flat like Sherlock leaves body parts around. (established Sherlolly)". Another 221b that demanded to be a bit more.

* * *

"There are hair straighteners next to my cultures," he announced to the flat in general. John smirked. Molly however gave him a look, one that likely said you're lucky we left your mould alone.

Then there was a cooling eye mask dampening the sofa. He resisted the urge to position it over his eyeballs on the third shelf when placing it rightfully back in the fridge.

His pathology literature tripled in size, nothing to complain about, except half of it was in the bathroom; on the window ledge, on top of the cistern.

"It's unhygienic."

Molly smiled and opened the fridge, pulling the milk out from beside a newly labelled bottle of Lysergic acid as if to say '_really_, Sherlock?' without a single word.

There appeared to be no way of stopping the encroachment of items. Every time she visited, which was to John's amusement practically every day now, another selection would be deposited.

By March an assortment of lipsticks could be found in every room – Molly complained when he used them for notes on the fridge door (or his bedroom mirror if they were more private, following John's protests) but they were easier to find than a pen.

DVD boxes were randomly interspersed within his carefully organised piles of books, making for precarious stacks no longer suitable to rest any samples upon.

"Stop it!" he shouted, as Molly went to put her hand in her bag after entering 221B one evening. When she looked upset and confused at the outburst he realised his folly. He rolled onto his back and sat upright to address her more politely.

"_Please_ do **not** leave any more of your possessions in my flat."

"Um...okay. I didn't know that bothered you. I guess I can do that, but..."

"But what?"

"I _am_ here a lot. Nearly all the time I'm not working really. I need things and isn't it easier if I have them here?"

Sherlock considered the sense of this. If she didn't have whatever she required she'd go home or spend more time traveling between the two places, the conclusion was she'd be around less. That meant it was indeed more convenient for her to store things here and if she stopped doing so not only would her person be absent more often but he'd also have to hunt down real pens, which had the side-effect of requiring particular surfaces to leave a note on.

"I'll speak to Mrs. Hudson. We'll get you a room."

"To sleep in?"

As she walked over to him, thoroughly failing to hide her worry at what he was saying, he was thankful she at least had the patience to hear him out when he tried to muddle through the treacherous territory that was a relationship related discussion.

"Of course not, the only acceptable room for you to sleep in here is _mine_. A room, _for your things_. 221C could do, with suitable modifications."

This explanation seemed to settle her concerns as she was no longer reticent to take up position next to him of the sofa, her bare forearm brushing against his gently through the silk of his dressing gown as she sat down.

"Sherlock, 221C is a bit more than 'a room'. It's an entire flat."

"A bedsit to be precise, a single room. Meaning, I was not incorrect."

"Any chance we could get you a room?"

He glanced to her, as oblivious to her own meaning as she had been to his not that long ago. "Whatever for?"

"All your body parts," she said with a straight face.

"Molly, I have five rooms currently for those, I hardly need another."

And then she hugged him from the side, pressing her head to his shoulder and nuzzling his neck. At the sensation of her slightly disheveled hair tickling his clavicle where the fabric did not cover his skin, he decided it would be prudent to give up on the case (it was only a 6) for a few hours and more decently reassure his girlfriend of the fact she was a more than welcome addition to his abode.

* * *

When John came home five minutes later, apart from rapidly shielding his eyes with a hand to the side of his face as he made his way to the kitchen, he considered saying the classic 'Get a room' but all prior experience of Sherlock pointed to that reminder as meaningless. It was far more effective to expose his presence as he left, which would handily also expose that Sherlock – who never failed to hear anyone enter – hadn't bothered to cease his ministrations, nor inform Molly another person was in the room.

Instead John quickly reached to the fruit bowl – hastily deciding he didn't want a banana right now, an orange would do – and retreated to his one refuge of his room with the entirely average quip, that could have very reasonably applied in other circumstances, of "See you later, if you're still up."


End file.
